Page 30 of Ruined Wolfsbane

I groan, dropping my head to my hands. My voice is muffled when I ask, “How do I drop a class? I can never see Malachi again after this.”

“About that,” Rory begins. I raise my head to give her the darkest glare I can. “Malachi’s still here. Downstairs. Making breakfast. For us.”

“No,” I whine. I look out Rory’s window and quickly calculate my odds of surviving a two-story drop. Eh, I can probably do it. My odds are better than surviving seeing Malachi again.

“Come on, Briar. It’s not going to be that bad,” Rory coaxes me.

“Not that bad!” I practically screech. “Please enlighten me, Ror, how it can get much worse than stripping in front of my professor! Who probably got an eye full of my boobs!”

“Well, when you put it like that….” Rory trails off, giving me a sympathetic look.

I flop back on the bed in defeat. “At this point, my only real option is to change my name and move away from Wolves Hollow. Somewhere remote, like Siberia. At least I’ll only be able to make an ass of myself in front of polar bears. Maybe I’ll dye my hair and get a nose job, too. Just in case.”

Rory giggles at my dramatics. I can’t help my small smile at her laughter. “Briar, trust me, babe. It’s really not as big of a deal as you think it is. You were basically in front of him in a bikini. That’s not the end of the world.”

Well, when she frames it that way, I might be overreacting. “Fine. I’ll go downstairs. Let me change first.” I hop off the bed and snag my backpack. After doing my business, I change out of Malachi’s shirt. I pull on a fresh sports bra, tank, and joggers.

I know I should give him back his shirt, but finders keepers. It smells too good and is too comfy for me to give up willingly. I stuff his tee in the bottom of my backpack, hidden underneath my other stuff.

Exiting the bathroom, I see a giddy Rory sitting on the bed. She jumps up and grabs my hand as soon as she sees me. Rory tugs me out the door of her bedroom and down the stairs. I let her pull me along until we reach the kitchen, where I spot Malachi.

Sweet baby Jesus. He’s shirtless.

Malachi Grimm is standing at the island, cooking bacon, in only a pair of jeans. My eyes greedily rove over all the tanned skin he has on display. I move my gaze from his taut pecs to his ripped six-pack, to the tantalizing glimpse of his Adonis belt. Malachi is even more muscular than I thought. He must spend a ton of time at the gym.

Once I’m able to look away from his muscles, I notice a black tattoo on his left pec. It’s a coat of arms. A wolf snarls in the middle of the shield. What looks like wolfsbane flowers wind around the shield, swooping and curling on the border. The wolfsbane around the crest looks almost identical to what’s on my mom’s locket. What a weird coincidence.

Malachi’s left arm has black vines snaking up and over his shoulder to join with the tattoo on his chest. His ink is beautiful. I can’t help but wonder what the significance is.

When I finish my perusal, I whisper to Rory, “Why isn’t he wearing a shirt?”

I must have been too loud because Malachi snaps his gaze to mine. His eyes sparkle with mirth. “Because you stole it last night.”

I guess we’re doing this, then. I thought we’d just quietly ignore what happened last night.

Apparently not.

Breathing out, I lift my chin and pull back my shoulders. I can put on a brave face to Patrick. This is a piece of cake in comparison. Doing my best to show no weakness, I haughtily respond, “It’s not my fault I look better in it than you do.”

Malachi grins at my sassy reply. I like seeing him like this, relaxed and carefree. It suits him better than his controlled professor persona.

I walk with a confidence I don’t feel toward the island and take a seat in the middle. Rory sits next to me, with Ronan on her opposite side. Ronan gives me a tired smile as we lock eyes. He leans back against the barstool, closing his eyes.

I guess he had a long night.

Me too, dude. Me. Too.

“Eat up,” Malachi orders as he shoves a plate my way. It’s overflowing with eggs, bacon, and sausage. I shake my head at his bossiness but do as he demands. While I’m eating, Malachi walks around the island to sit next to me. I’m absolutely starving. I demolish the plate in record time. Only when I’m done eating does Malachi ask, “How’s the head, Briar?”

That’s right. Malachi also witnessed me massively misjudge how much to drink.

Awesome.

Yet another way I’ve embarrassed myself in front of him.

Taking stock of how I feel, I’m surprised to discover I feel great. “Actually, my head’s fine. I don’t have a headache or anything.”

“Probably from sleeping next to your ma—ow!” Ronan yelps from the end of the island.

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